


Invitations

by janeklimt



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janeklimt/pseuds/janeklimt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan finally has it out with Sherlock over his hasty departure...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic...a work in progress, but was encouraged (looking at you, NW) to post it here...all suggestions, corrections, thoughts welcomed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Many thanks to all of you that left comments and kudos. This newbie appreciates your support very much!

Marcus' invitation came quite unexpectedly. 

He was hosting a holiday party, and was inviting his guests "plus one". Of course Joan would be there. She would have brought Andrew along, had he not currently been away. As she emailed her RSVP, and wondered what she would wear, she also thought about whether or not he had invited Sherlock. After all, why wouldn't he? Hadn't they begun to heal their relationship before Sherlock's hasty departure almost a year ago? Marcus seemed happy to have Sherlock back at the precinct lately...she even thought she saw them sharing a laugh?

Joan's phone chimed. 

~

As she arrived at the police station and strode towards Capt. Gregson's office, she could make out Sherlock's tightly coiled frame through the blinds. Marcus was strolling over from his desk and when he saw Joan. 

"Morning, Joan! I was glad to get your quick reply about the party. It should be fun!"   
"I'm looking forward to it, Marcus. Can I do or bring anything? Are you expecting many people?" She mentally kicked herself for asking. She hoped it didn't make her seem curious about the rest of the guest list. Oh wait, he's a detective. 

"Not sure how many people will come yet, but I only invited friends from the precinct. Gregson, Kitty and Sherlock, Smitty, and a few people from homicide. I think you know everyone."

She grimaced inwardly at his choice to list Sherlock and Kitty together, as if they were a set, a couple. Partners. She hoped that it didn't manifest in her expression. She followed Marcus into Tommy Gregson's office. 

~

Joan took one last look at herself in the shiny elevator doors as it arrived at Marcus' floor. She hoped she looked good, but not like she was trying too hard. 

She never asked anyone else if they were attending the party for fear of seeming too eager. She also didn't know if Sherlock was coming or not. She knew him well, and knew the chances were slim that he'd be there. 

She adjusted the wine tote on her shoulder and rang the bell. She could hear music and voices seeping through the door. After the longest five seconds in recent memory, Marcus answered the door. 

"Joan! Come on in. You look great!" Joan handed him the tote. "Thanks for bringing more wine. Everyone's here. Let me get you a drink. Red or white?"

"Thanks, Marcus. White please. Hey, where can I put my coat?"

"Just throw it on the bed, last door on the left." He said, as he hurried off to get her wine. 

As Joan walked down the hall to drop off her coat, the bright holiday jazz drifted down the hall with her. She wondered if he was there. Did "everyone" include Sherlock? She didn't get a good look into the living room. She tried to remind herself that she was there to see everyone else regardless. She saw him all the time, after all. He usually hated social interactions. Why did she think he'd make an exception this time? What was wrong with her for even thinking about this now? 

She took her phone out of her purse, made sure it was silenced, and slipped it into her dress pocket. 

"I was asked to deliver this". 

Joan's heart skipped as she turned around, startled. Sherlock was standing there, body rigid, shoulders back, arm completely thrust forward. The glass in his hand was as far away as possible from him. 

There was a little mistletoe charm on the glass's stem. 

"Hey, Sherlock. So glad you're here. Thanks. Merry Christmas." With this, she reached for the glass, and as she took it from him, continued to move forward, and past him. Sandalwood. Fireplace. Beeswax. 

"I'm surprised that you decided to come." She tossed this over her shoulder at him as she moved ahead.

Joan was back in the hall when she realized Sherlock wasn't following. She stopped and turned around. "You coming?" 

His face was still, lips pressed into a line, but his eyes were wide. He inhaled sharply and caught up. He placed one hand stiffly near -but not directly on- her lower back, the other gesturing towards the party. "Shall we?" 

They joined the party in silence, Joan wondering what he was thinking. She put her smile on, and began to greet her colleagues. 

~

A few hours of hors d'oeuvres and several glasses of wine later, Joan was getting a little tired. Kitty had brought her Zachary- a sweet, quiet young man. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by the event, but was clearly glad to be in her company. Kitty seemed comfortable, surrounded by people she had grown to know and trust, and appeared the most relaxed that Joan had ever seen her.

Gregson didn't bring a date, but seemed to have had a great time, along with Marcus and the rest of their coworkers. 

Sherlock, on the other hand, was as stiff and awkward as usual. He invariably turned toward conversations involving cases, much to the chagrin of his colleagues. No one wanted to talk about work at a party.   
Joan remembered the time he met her and her family for dinner, and how amiable, and even charming he seemed that evening. It occurred to her then what a huge effort that must have been for him given this evening's behavior.

Finally Joan decided she was a little too tired, a bit too drunk, and out of conversation to stay any longer. She thanked Marcus, waved a Merry Christmas and goodbye to the crowd, and headed down the hall for her coat. 

On the way back, Marcus handed her the now empty wine tote and thanked her again. As she folded it into her purse and turned to leave, Sherlock was at her side.

"I'm personally fond of the Irish exit. May I walk you out?" 

Joan laughed as they walked towards the elevator. "You?? Leave without saying goodbye?" 

Suddenly, these statements weren't funny at all. The double meaning in their exchange was painfully evident both in her mood change and on Sherlock's face. Seeing this, she instantly regretted having said anything, but her inebriated state had greased the wheels. She decided she wasn't so sorry after all. 

As the elevator doors slid open, they stood facing each other, neither moving to board. 

"Watson, as I have stated previously, I regret my choice of so brief a note, and the impersonal language with which I chose to say goodbye. I also regret any pain I may have caused you. I understand that it has been found that women take much longer to get over their anger than men on a neurological level-" 

Instantly incensed in a way that she would not have normally have been, Joan cut him off.

"Are you kidding me?? You're saying I'm still upset because I'm a woman, and not because you're a selfish jerk?" Her volume was low, but her tone sharp. Even drunk, she didn't want to cause a scene in Marcus' hallway.

"Well, yes. Apparently, the way the female brain-" 

Joan turned on her heel as precisely as she could manage and entered the elevator. As she slammed the door button, Sherlock quickly stepped between the doors. The doors finally began to close again. 

"Pressing the button repeatedly won't-"

"Shut up." Joan pressed the ground floor button, then fastened her coat closed and adjusted her scarf, while willing the elevator to reach the ground floor as quickly as possible. They rode the rest of the way in silence. 

When the doors opened on the ground floor, Joan strode out of the lobby and asked the doorman for a cab, giving him her address. As the doorman did this for her, Sherlock was once again at her side. "Want to split a taxi?"


	2. In vino veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the cab comes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANY thanks to nairobiwonders for her time, encouragement and input. I still have my training wheels on. <3
> 
> AND, Also thanks to all of you that left comments and kudos. This newbie appreciates your support very much!

Joan's initial disbelief and annoyance at his remarkable ability to miss social cues was quickly substituted by the hurt and resentment she had internalized over the last year. She turned around, and as the taxi pulled up, she narrowed her eyes and hissed her reply. "That sounds like a great idea."

Joan wasn't sure if it was just the wine, but she felt she could no longer keep these feelings to herself. It was time.

The taxi pulled up, and Sherlock held the door for her. As they settled in for the ride home, she took a deep breath. "I need to talk to you, Sherlock." An icy rain began to fall, making soft pelting noises on the taxi's windows.

Her edgy tone of voice and her body language at the curb had broadcast to Sherlock that something was wrong. Watson was upset. Her body was rigid- not her usual lovely, graceful posture. Somehow, it wasn't something he could ascribe to just her wine intake. Still, he didn't want to initiate the Pygmalion Effect by asking her what was the matter.

He turned his head towards her, back straight against the seat, fingers drumming on his thighs. Almost sounded like Morse code...SOS. "I am ever at your disposal, Watson. How may I be of assistance?"

"Would you mind stopping off at my place? I know it's late..." She didn't want to have this discussion in the cab. She also didn't want him to have the advantage of not having to look at her because they were facing in the same direction in the taxi's back seat. If he didn't meet her gaze, she wanted to know it was because he was avoiding it.

Sherlock felt his pulse quicken momentarily. His first thought was to tell her he had an early morning tomorrow, but she knew him too well. Anyone else who kept a normal sleep schedule might have believed a claim like this. But not Joan. At this point, he thought he knew what this was about, and that he couldn't avoid this any longer.

"Of course, Watson".

Joan thought she caught a moment's hesitation in his answer.

~

The taxi headed south towards her Chelsea neighborhood with Joan and Sherlock sitting stiffly in the back. They passed the converted art deco buildings, dark galleries and row-houses.

Finally, they pulled up in front of Joan's building. Joan paid the driver, and they headed upstairs. Once inside her apartment, Sherlock walked over to Clyde's habitat, turning off the daylight lamp and turning on his evening light. "Rather a late night for him, don't you think? I would have switched to his evening lamp before I left for the evening."

"And when he's at the brownstone, you may do so." This irked Joan. What's with him repeatedly trying to make them parents? First Kitty, now Clyde. It was bad enough that they had shared custody of Clyde. Who does that?

Her irritation reminded her of exactly why she asked him over. She pulled in a long inhale.

"I need to talk to you about what happened when you left. I've tried to put it behind me and move on with our usual working relationship, but I think it's a mistake not to address the issues."

"Which issues are those, Watson?" Sherlock was feeling defensive despite knowing he had no right to.

"How about how you made life decisions for both of us without consulting me?" Whatever level of inebriation that Joan had experienced prior to getting home, it was slowly beginning to wear off. However, it had opened a door for her that she was now determined to walk through.

"I've admitted my poor choices, both in my actions, and in my way of conveying them. I am not sure..." Sherlock began. Joan cut him off.

"I've never gotten to tell you exactly what life was like for me at that time. I think you need to understand that it's certainly not all about you. It's not all about the work." She stood before him in the living room, angry. She started to pace slowly, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. Sherlock understood this body language. He took a seat.

Joan continued.

"I was still reeling from being taken by Le Milieu, and everything that happened while I was with them. Did you even think for a moment how horrifying it was to not only be kidnapped, but to have a person you worked so hard to save, killed right in front you? Especially given what you know about why I chose to leave medicine to begin with?"

"And let's not forget my misguided relationship with Mycroft. I still don't know what I was thinking. And what's really striking in retrospect, is how he tried to equate our relationship to being your protectors, your shield,-your parents, if you will. Sound familiar?" Sherlock closed his eyes at this. He was both incensed and surprised at her statement.

"And yes, let's talk about your choices. I told you I needed my own space. That I needed my own life. I wasn't leaving you. I wasn't abandoning you, or our work. I tried to explain to you that I need more." At this, her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry in front of him. She turned around and tried to blink away her tears.

"And instead of being supportive, of thinking about me and what I need as a human being, you decided it best to leave. How hypocritical of you. You decided to abandon me, our work, our partnership. You decided to leave me without a job, and most importantly, without my best friend." At this, Sherlock's eyes widen, and he looks away from Joan. He swallows hard, looks back at her, and slowly opens his mouth to speak.

Joan sees this and immediately continues, but her voice lowers and trembles as she does, emotion threatening to take over.

"When I needed those things the most to get through all of that." Her arms fall at her sides. Her eyes boring their way through him. Sherlock doesn't dare speak. She takes a deep breath and continues.

"And then you're back. With a new partner in tow. A replacement. How exactly did you expect me to react? What did you think I would think? Wait, what am I saying? I'm sure you knew exactly what I would think. What you didn't think about was how I would feel. Because my feelings don't really count in this equation, do they?"

By now, Joan was red in face. "And now that you're back, and you're pretending everything is just fine. You're horning in on my cases, even taking one on without consulting me first...What the hell, Sherlock?" He sat before her, agape, trying to pull together his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, I think. Many thanks for all your thoughts, suggestions, and encouragement. My sincere thanks to nairobiwonders for her guidance and patience.

Sherlock blinked several times, as if to clear the haze caused by her outpouring of emotion. In fact, it was to help clear his own.

He was not surprised by most of what Watson had just expressed. In fact, he believed it would have been entirely reasonable for her to decide never to speak to him again. What did come as a bit of a surprise was that she was not only cross with him professionally, but personally as well. He had underestimated the emotional toll his actions had had on her.

He cleared his throat, looked at Watson, and took a deep breath. "I would like to make it clear to you that I regret all of my poor decisions where you and our partnership are concerned." Upon stating this, he abruptly stood up, as if ready to leave.

Joan opened her mouth to call him out on his cowardice, then realized he wasn't moving. He stood before Joan, eyes dewy, but fixed on hers.

"I admit that I was deeply hurt by your decision to leave the brownstone. I was unable to separate my personal feelings regarding this from the reality of the situation."

"You are quite right Watson, I made your decision for yourself, about me. It was self-centered and emotionally driven. It was steeped in personal weakness and a need to escape from my feelings. This was a mistake of such large proportions, that I am at a loss to as to how I will be able to make amends for it."

Joan let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. This was a good start, she thought, but he was kidding himself if he thought that would be enough. "Go on."

Sherlock almost laughed aloud at this, but understood that this was his penance.

"When I asked you to stay on as my companion, my partner, I told you that I was better with you. I understood that exposure to you and your sensibilities helped to balance me - both emotionally and professionally. I had never worked so closely in tandem with anyone else. Your level of intelligence and knowledge, and your unique way of interweaving it with your intuition, was a boon both to my work, and to me as an individual. I admire and appreciate you in ways I do no one else. As I have stated previously, I regard you as exceptional."

"How exceptional could I be if you so readily tried to replace me?" Joan scoffed. It was a little childish of her, but he deserved it. She turned from him, walked to the sofa, and sat. She looked at him defiantly, waiting for his reply.

Sherlock turned to face her, still on his feet. He took the armchair opposite her and brought it closer, so he could sit directly in front of her. He leaned forward, his hands together.

"When you were taken by Le Milieu, it was very difficult for me to deal with. Not only had I been unhappy- angry, actually -about your involvement with Mycroft, but this seemed an incandescent example of just how wrong his presence in your life was to me." He stopped, and looked down at Joan's feet before continuing.

The mention of Mycroft made her bristle.

"If I am to be completely honest, I was incensed that he had inserted himself into our life together. I had gone as far as asking him to end his relationship with you. I am ashamed of myself now for doing so. I had no right to interfere in your personal life. Yet another example of my self-centeredness. Through Kitty, you have finally managed to teach me this."

Joan was still angry, but these rare words from him gave her pause. Sherlock continued, still focused on looking anywhere but directly at her.

"During the time we worked to find you, Mycroft voiced his observation that you were the person I loved most in the world. I hated him for stating it aloud, but I could not deny that this is true." Joan was touched by this admission from him. He never spoke of love. Despite herself, she softened a bit.

"When I returned, I hoped I could somehow regain at least some of our working relationship. I knew things would never be the same, and I admit that I tried too hard."

"You think? Think about it, Sherlock. Do you think I would ever dare to take a case on your behalf without consulting you first? It was disrespectful." Joan meant what she said, but her anger had lost it's edge. The wine was also losing it's hold.

"It was foolhardy, and I regret it. It will never happen again. I promise you, Watson." He had looked her in the eye in order to deliver his apology. He knew that no matter how uncomfortable he was, she deserved his sincerity and more.

They sat in silence for some time, eyeing each other. Joan realized that she never truly expected to get anywhere near this much of an apology from him. She wasn't ready to completely forgive him just yet, but she felt her pent up frustrations, fears, and resentments finally spilling over. She looked down in an effort to hide her eyes.

Sherlock froze upon seeing this. He swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat, and after another deep breath, he stood and took a few steps toward Joan, reached out towards her shoulders, and slowly, cautiously, drew her into his arms.

He held her stiffly, but tightly against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

Joan was caught by surprise at his physical expression, and let out a muffled sob into his shirt. She breathed deep, and could smell the fireplace in his clothes. She turned her head so her cheek lay on his chest, one arm holding her hand near her mouth lest another sob escape, one arm around his waist. She closed her eyes and said, "It's been difficult. I had hoped a new setting and trying to build a more normal life would help. I feel adrift at times..." Her voice trailed off.

Sherlock rested his cheek on the top of Watson's head, enjoying the feel of her hair on his face. In a low voice, rough with emotion, Sherlock slowly said, "I love you, Joan. You are my better half, and I will always need you in my life. I respect your need of a normal and balanced life, and hope you'll allow me to remain a part of it. I thought only of my needs in the past. I was selfish, and I it is my deepest hope that you will in time find a way to forgive me."


End file.
